The Way We Were
by A2D the Colourblind Zebra
Summary: Sixteen years after the Promised Day Rosalie Hamburgang is trying to adapt to life as the heiress of her 'mother's' estate when Fuhrer Armstrong gives them a new servant to take in, but why does he look exactly like that boy from her past, and why is the Fuhrer so interested in him at all?


A/N: Looking for a random pairing for New Selim in your fic? Why not Zoidberg? Or Rosalie? Yes, it has happened; I have succumbed and written a post manga fic, but the jokes on you because I'm taking on those wretched Elicia shippers with my own tongue in cheek fic!

I may write this melodramatic because I'm playing this cracky situation straight, but I'm not taking this seriously and neither should you.

Hm, I don't think this counts as being Pride, but Rosalie doesn't have her own character thing…I'll thick about whether I should remove the Pride part before I post my next chapter in two weeks ^^

0 * 0* 0 * 0 * 0

**September 21st 1914**

"_What are you writing, Amy?" Oh, she was 'Amy' now? Was this because Jude wasn't with them, or did she disapprove of something, pointing out that she could easily send her Back _There_?_

"_I'm writing a letter to Selim. It's been so long I bet he's forgotten all about me."_

"_It has only been five months, dear." _

"_Well I still want to tell him that we can't visit, because of…y'know." Why bother mentioning it? "He'll probably be upset, but he'll understand. I hope he's taking care of that raccoon." She didn't answer, it was better to just carry on writing her letter, simple, none cursive letters spilling onto the paper. Maybe he'd _know _if he saw, but what could she do? "Oh, I know, this time I'll bring him a nice…ooh, that cat, that's such a pretty doll."_

"_It was one of Rosalie's favourites, you shouldn't keep taking her dolls away." But weren't they _her_ dolls now, old Rosalie didn't need them anymore. "I'm sure Selim has enough toys already." Well, that was true, she had seen his room._

_Maybe he could visit her instead, oh, but he couldn't see old Rosalie's room, she'd better warn him—wait, she couldn't write _that_, the only reason she was there was to keep Jude happy. No one could know the truth. She scribbled out the word, almost tearing the paper._

_No one must know, but even then she couldn't help nearly signing her real name._

_She would get used to it eventually._

0 * 0 * 0

**September 18th 1931**

Rosalie set the bear upright again, giving its head a small pat and moving on to the cream coloured rabbit, making it sit down on the pillow. That snowman thing could stay where it was- why old Rosalie had liked that thing she'd never know, but mother would have never allowed her to get rid of it, but she could still ignore it. How they never managed to stay in their correct places was a mystery she had poured many an afternoon pondering, maybe it was old Rosalie's ghost still frolicking in her room. She had seen moving suits of armour in her time so ghosts certainly weren't out of the realm of possibility that was for sure. But now she was a subdued woman coming up to twenty-five and a half, and though she might have an interest in her old pastimes, she was far too busy to pursue them anymore, and even to her they felt a tad childish now. The elaborate mahogany chair was still bare, unoccupied for so long she could barely remember what old Roslaie was like, that grey, slack, leathery skin, while her perfect hair was always softer than silk, and occasionally the shriveled little thing would move a tiny bit. Whatever had been left of the old Rosalie had died with Jude, thought it had taken them several months before such became apparent once her mummified state had began to rot. It was best not to think about it.

There was a distinctive gap where the raccoon should have sat, where it had been absent for seventeen years, it was probably little more than a pile of stuffing now, if that, or maybe his 'mother' had kept it to remember him. She'd been stubborn and selfish, there was no doubt about that, but so had he, not replying to her like that, what was she supposed to do, try again, just for him to ignore her? Her logic was undeniable at the time, what would the Fuhrer's son want associating with a low class riffraff like her, far lower than he even knew? Even as Rosalie she was no where near his status, it was no wonder he ignored her. Besides, how was she to know what was going to happen to him not even half a year later? Part of her yearned to have seen him once more before that day, it might have been completely out of her control what had befallen him but still- Oh, what was she like? It was best not to think about _that _either.

"Rosalie, are you in there? You need to get ready for your meeting with our new Servant." 'Mother' called from outside the room, voice airy. Maybe it was better that she think of her as the real Rosalie now, living fully in her lie. It wasn't like she could take much care of herself anymore, and who was there to inherit the Hamburgang estate?

"When will he be here, Mother?" She had never wished for any other term of address, even as an adult mother didn't respect her enough to let her use first names, thinking of her as Rosalie aside. The part of her that was still Amy had always objected, but the necessary façade and the consequence of failure had always knocked her back into place.

"Alexander said over the phone that he would be here this afternoon. Please take the necessary preparation so you will be able to greet him impeccably." It had been out of the blue, their distant relative sending a letter on the Fuhrer's behalf requesting that they take in a young man as a servant as she didn't believe in references, but still desired that they take him. Mother hadn't let her see the letter, but all Rosalie needed to know was that he would be coming to live with them on the estate. The need for all staff to harbour her secret had long since ceased without Jude to keep happy (it had been a wonder Mother hadn't thrown her back to the orphanage there and then, maybe she did care a little), so this new servant needn't know.

"Ok, Mother. I will get ready now." There wasn't much left for her to do here anyway. "See you later, Rosalie." She nodded towards the empty seat, making sure everything was perfectly aligned again, before drawing the white curtains together and leaving the nearly barren room empty once again. Old Rosalie's room had always remained hers, to remind her of how much she didn't belong in the Hamburgang household. Jude had never asked why she had chosen to change rooms, if he had even found out at all- it was better that way, that she maintained some individuality for who she once was, rather than completely replacing Rosalie in every respect.

Stepping into that room down the corridor that was undoubtedly hers and hers alone she filed through clothes, pulling out a shawl that matched her long dress, the soft yellow that Rosalie used to wear, and that Mother had always had an affinity for. Mother insisted that she wear similarly styled clothes now that she was grown and the future heir to the estate; she wasn't a child anymore who could continue wearing the unusual colour scheme of her youth. She was a lady now and it wasn't proper, apparently. After running the brush through her hair for a few minutes she pulled it up, throwing the clump at the back over and tucking it in, holding it in place with wide golden clip so similar to her Mother's. Word had trickled slowly from the far off towns and cities that shorter hair was more fashionable these days, as if it had become the new symbol of femininity in women given the Fuhrer's cold nature and long hair. But what did fashion matter to someone like her? Mother would never hear of her cutting her hair short, and thinking it over Rosalie was not too fussed on what was fashionable in places she would hardly ever visit. At least this way she could have both whenever she wanted. Setting the brush down on her table she leant closer to the mirror. This would be acceptable enough for her to meet with their new servant, she supposed. Even for a potential servant he must have been someone of at least a tiny bit importance if Alexander had been interested enough in him to send them a reference (though _that _had been more of a request to take him in rather than anything that explained his skills), or perhaps it was merely his charitable side coming out that wished to help everything and everyone within a fifty foot radius. He really was nothing like his sister from what she had heard about those distant relatives of hers, well, not really _hers _but… she was part of this family now for the most part so in all technicalities they were her family too through however many generations since they had diverged in the first place.

While she was appraising her appearance someone knocked on her door, and opened it once she gave her permission.

"The young man you are expecting is here, Lady Rosalie. Your Mother is waiting downstairs for you to greet him as well." The butler told her, he was coming greatly on in years but still as loyal as ever.

"Thank you for informing me, I shall go to meet him now." After so many years the slightly verbose words came to her easily enough. It was a wonder Jude had never realised she wasn't the true Rosalie from how simple her language had been in comparison to Mother's back then, and probably the real Rosalie's. She followed him downstairs, reaching the main sitting room. From somewhere near the front door something like a cough and fidgeting echoed across, but she ignored it.

"Hello Dear, he'll be shown in shortly so take a seat." Mother motioned to the chair next to her own, while a ways off the one Jude always used to sit in stood solitary in front of the window.

Without the butler announcing him at all, the door opened a crack and the figure of their new employee walked in, portmanteau suitcase in one hand. One of the first things she noticed was his inky black hair and his _purple _eyes filled with an aloof, deep sadness covered by determination. Purple…she had only ever seen one person with those kind of eyes, and that was-

Her jaw fell slack, and her hand automatically came to cover her mouth. It was…was, was _him,_ but—but it couldn't be, how could it be? The resemblance was astounding though, even in his black jacket and trousers (it seemed he was dressing appropriately for the job already), nothing like the style of the Selim she remembered, he looked just like him, older and quite a bit taller of course, hair longer, fringe covering his forehead more noticeably, but otherwise completely the same. But how could…? This made no sense. He probably saw her reaction, and warily glanced at Mother instead, not sure who to address and settling for shifting between them both every second or so, and bowed more at the small gap between the chairs rather than either of them.

"Good afternoon, Madam. It is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for allowing me to work here on such short notice. I appreciate more than you shall ever know." Remembering the need to reply she dragged herself from her dumfounded daze and sat up straighter.

"I-it was no trouble. We are always willing to accept staff to the estate." A quick glance at his suitcase, it must have just contained what he needed for that night. His other cases would probably be elsewhere waiting to be picked up, rather than him carrying them all at once. "Where are your bags? Do you want to go collect them from somewhere?" The boy – boy enough it seemed, she doubted he was over twenty, not like _he _would have been- faltered, and gave a timid shake of his head, so unsure of how to behave.

"This is all I have brought with me." Selim would never have packed so light, she had seen his room once upon a time and it had been filled to bursting with toys and the clear evidence of how much his adopted family had loved him. Hopefully wherever he had gone after he had died it was where his real parents were, she had no strong beliefs but she hoped that one thing so dearly, for him, and for her own- she mustn't think about that. "I did not want to…take up any unnecessary space, Madam."

"'Miss Hamburgang' will suffice until you begin work. So, why do you want to work here again?" For all his eloquence she would have thought he would have strived for more than a simple job as a servant, and she was the tiniest bit curious as to what he hoped to achieve by working for them.

"I turned sixteen a few months ago, and I want to enroll at the University in Central in two years' time." That was the most concrete of proof; _he _had been older than her, they had celebrated his first double digit birthday together the first time they'd met all those years ago- this boy couldn't be him. It was impossible, and absurd for her to even be thinking such things. She might have seen her fair sure of unusual occurrences in her time but that did _not _mean she should be jumping to such ridiculous conclusions within the first five minutes of meeting anyone, not even this boy who happened to look so much like… "So I wish to work here to raise the costs of my tuition. I believe that being part of the staff here, as Fuhrer Armstrong so graciously offered to me, I shall be able to earn enough money through honest work, and I promise to work very hard here." That was probably the only reason he had chosen to work here, servant work might just get him his tuition, and not much else. Why he hadn't simply chosen to work in the city was beyond her, but refusing the Fuhrer's will was probably a death wish anyway. "I would not want to acquire the cost of my education any other way."

"A noble sentiment, I believe you will provide an excellent service to the household during your stay. Rosalie, will you take him to where he will be staying and properly acquaint him with the house, as well as calculate his wages?"

"Of course, Mother."

The walk to find the boy a suitable living space among the spares room was an awkward one, her leading the way while he held tight to his suitcase and followed her without a word. This wouldn't do, other households might have preferred that their servants never speak but the curiosity was eating her up inside and she simply _had _to know more about the boy, just to prove her silly assumptions completely wrong.

"So, what's your name? I'm Rosalie, by the way."

"My name is Selim, Selim Bradley." He must have seen her utter shock again, and he corrected himself immediately. "N-not the other Selim Bradley. I was born after he died, so Mother named me after him. We had a lot of support from the government because of what happened, but now I don't have enough money left from my Father to support myself and pay for my tuition."

"I see, so you are using what would have been your tuition to support your mother, and working here to save up the rest?" His head sank even lower, and he looked away, mumbling.

"…Something like that." They climbed the stairs and passed by a shut door, and Rosalie stopped, she had better warn him before he started working.

"That was my late Father's room; you are not to go in there, Selim." It was a lie that had stuck ever since those peculiar Elric boys had visited her three years after she had started her game of pretending to be Rosalie, even with the real Rosalie gone the room was better left untouched. Selim nodded solemnly, keeping his head low. Soon enough they had found a small, but cozy spare room with a single bed and a desk in the servant's quarters. Pulling a notepad out from one of the draws she began jotting down a few numbers, running through his expected behaviour as well. It would be strange to have a servant younger than her working there, in all her years playing house she had never met a servant who was younger. Maybe it was just her getting old. Selim set his suitcase down at beside him as he sat on the bed, listening attentively despite that sad sheen wavering in his eyes again.

"We will find you the appropriate uniform soon enough, but for now your current clothes fit with the desired colour scheme so they will be acceptable. You will be expected to clean the house every day to your utmost ability, sweep the chimneys when required, as well as assist the gardener with his duties should he ask that of you, as well as whatever you are instructed to do during the day by either myself, Mother or any of your superior members of staff. Your working hours will be ten hours Monday to Saturday, and five hours on Sunday so you can have the afternoon off then. You will be paid the standard servant wage, which is 125 cenz per hour, which comes to-" Rosalie scribbled out a few more calculations "1250 cenz a day, five days a week, and then half wages on Sunday on top, so-" and then that would come to…"that's 8125 cenz per week." He was beaming already, teeth flashing.

"That's a great wage, thank you so much. At that rate I'll be able to pay for my tuition within just seven m-" Her mischievous, but not malicious smirk cut him off.

"Of course, you _are _going to be staying here, and being well fed, so let's call it…2050 cenz per week lodging, and 4000 cenz food, so we'll take that off, and give you the 2070 cenz for you to do whatever you wish with. Do you have any objections to that, Selim?" Still saying that name after so long felt wrong; even if it wasn't the same Selim she couldn't separate them, not yet. His smile dropped considerably, but he nodded, like he had no choice in the matter. "Don't worry, Selim, you'll be able to raise the money you need in two years, I'm sure of it." He didn't say anything, running a hand through his hai—what was that on his forehead? It looked like a red spot of some sorts. The old Selim, who he assuredly wasn't, most definitely did _not _have anything like that on his head.

"What is that, Selim? Is it a birthmark?" That was probably not the most professional of ways to handle the question, a bit too forward, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Y-Yes. W-Will that be a problem, Miss Hamburgang? I'm sorry; I can cover it with make-up if you find it inappropriate for a representative of your household." He dragged his fringe down to hide it from sight once again, though much more deliberate, brushing his eyebrows, before she must have not been able to see it. She watched his nervous actions with a slight purse in her lips. Why was he being so cautious? Like he wanted everything to be perfect and her mentioning that had ruined everything. She laughed, waving the issue away, and he gave her a look at the sound, blinking in surprise.

"No, no, it's perfectly fine. I was merely curious." At least now she would be able to tell the difference between them, or rather remind herself that this Selim wasn't _that _one. "Why, one of our most treasured workers back when I was a child had much more noticeable scars on his face, and we never thought anything less of him because of that. You shouldn't be so twitchy, Selim, you're in good hands here. We wouldn't want to disappoint Fuhrer Armstrong by mistreating you after all! She must've taken a shine to you if she went out of her way just to find you a job." Maybe he would settle in better if he was alone, and reminding him that he would only need to start work on Monday, she left him to his own devices. Mother would probably want to know all she could about the boy from first impressions, she grew so attached to them, like they all became family themselves, had she _known_ just who this Selim was, and hadn't been telling her? Or had she forgotten all about him too? It was better that she not bring it up, whether she had been keeping it from her was irrelevant, he was here now and that was all that mattered.

Well, today had certainly been a strange one; she had a new servant that looked so suspiciously like that Selim of old. Never would she have thought she would be employing the son of the Fuhrer, even if not that particular son.

Rosalie smiled a little. The coming days were going to be interesting, she just knew it.

At the very least, it was better than keeping Rosalie's room neat and tidy.

0 * 0* 0 * 0 * 0

Hehehe…I'm never writing serious crack ever again after this fic, it's too draining ^^; Probably not another post manga fic either because you all know how I feel about New Selim, but this is for the greater good I swear XD


End file.
